Dark Skin

June 30, 2015

Related Stories

I felt sorry for the blonde kids, who had to be so careful. Unlike them, I never seemed to burn. I just got darker. By the time July rolled around, I had turned a lovely shade of mahogany.

And I loved swimming. The public pool was only a few blocks away, and I would have spent my entire summer in the water if Mom and Dad had let me.

Most of the time, my encounters at the pool were benign. Oh, I bumped into more than my share of ladies’ legs swimming underwater with my eyes shut, and I’m sure I interrupted dozens of games of catch with beach balls, oblivious, as usual, to what anyone else was doing, as I darted around the pool. I got yelled at a few times, but adults generally forgave us kids our trespasses.

Other kids weren’t always so generous. One day I got a chilling reminder that, to some people, what you look like is more important than how you act, and that you can never completely escape being defined by your genetics.

Tomorrow’s story is about discovering what it’s like to be discovered.

Thoughts, comments or questions about this story? Send me a note here, or via email at ed@sleeperave.com. I publish my favorite comments weekly on my blog.

Subscribe to the Sleeper Ave. mailing list

I need your help! After a 37-year career in print, it's not easy building an audience from scratch. So if you enjoy Sleeper Ave., please help me out by subscribing, donating if you can, but most importantly, spreading the word. Share this story on Facebook, Twitter and elsewhere, email it to your friends, let people know! Every little bit helps, and I'll be forever grateful. Thanks! -- Ed